Marijke Miessen - French Music 18th Century

Music in Versailles Louis XIV (1638-1715) never had reason to complain about his musical education. He was only a child when he put together his first band; at about the age of ten he was taught the lute and other string instruments and the harpsichord soon followed. Louis also loved to dance as often and much as he could; it is said his legs could dance a regal branle and courante. As an absolute monarch, he did not have to skimp on anything, even music. Of course, there was a degree of ostentation attached to his office. It was essential to receive ambassadors in a suitable manner, it was inconceivable to take the salute without a festive musical accompaniment and nor did he venture out onto hunting grounds or battlefields without drums and trumpets. However, Louis's interest in music transcended the strict demands of protocol. Everyday life - in as much as a Sun King could enjoy it - was imbued with music. When he arose (lever) and went to bed (coucher), in the royal chapel, at meal times, on boat trips or strolls, musicians were always at the ready everywhere. At it's peak, Versailles had no less than 200 musicians on it's staff. Following French tradition, the musical menagerie of the King was organised down to the tiniest details. There was the Musique de la Grande Écurie, with it's drums, trumpets, oboes, cornets, bagpipes and other wind instruments that thrive in the open air. There was the Musique de la Chapelle Royale that offered employment to a handful of singers, violinists, flute and oboe players along with other instrumentalists. In addition, the French court was entertained with orchestral and dance music by the Vingt-quatre Violons du Roi (also known as the Grande Bande) and the Petits Violons du Roi (in other words, the Petite Bande). Only the very best musicians ascended to the top of the ladder: they were admitted to the Musique de la Chambre, the elite corps of soloists who performed chamber music in the royal suite almost every evening. Three of the four composers whose music can be heard on this CD were among them. Marin Marais (1656-1728) was appointed in 1679 as Ordinaire de la chambre du Roi pour la viole and was employed as royal gamba player until he retired in 1725. Around 1700, harpsichord player François Couperin (1668-1733) joined the King's court musicians and a few years later, Jacques-Martin Hotteterre (ca. 1680-1761) joined with recorder, transverse flute and oboe. Such a profitable position was not available for violinist and harpsichord player Charles Dieupart. That may be why he departed for London, where he died in 1740 in poverty. Italy versus France A musician employed by the King was allowed to arrange his own succession. At the French court, this privilege led to the rise of various dynasties of musicians, who accumulated craftsmanship, artistry and capital within their own circle. The two most important families who left their mark on the Grand Siècle are the Couperins and the Hotteterres. The Couperin dynasty ensured a constant stream of first-class harpsichord players. After Louis Couperin became organist at the Saint-Gervais in 1653, this post stayed in the family for no less than 173 years. At the age of 18, François followed in the footsteps of uncle Louis and his own father Charles, at the start of a career in which he would grow to become France's most important composer of instrumental music. At a tender age, Couperin was already a fervent admirer of the Italian style of music and of Arcangelo Corelli in particular. That was hardly a safe bet at that time: there was plenty of mud slinging about the pros and cons of the French and Italian ways of composing. According to the priest and writer François Raguenet, it was no wonder that Italians thought French music to be boring, shallow, insipid and even stupid. He was of the opinion that the French aimed for gentle, easy, flowing evergreens. Raguenet penned his essay in 1702 and accused his compatriots of lacking adventure. 'They flatter, tickle and caress the ear, but always comply with an exact measure.' He found the Italians much more appealing. They moved at whim between major and minor and dared to try unexpected dissonants and reckless tunes. 'The Italian ignores all rules and that is what makes his music so compelling', Raguenet wrote pugnaciously. Jean Laurent Le Cerf de la Viéville retorted by defending the French regime of balance and measure against what he regarded as the 'strained, incoherent and unnatural taste' of the Italians. While many melodies from the French opera pleasantly haunt one's mind, Le Cerf suggested that an Italian tune would not stick 'even when you have heard it ten times'. French masters François Couperin chose the best of both worlds. When the first Italian sonatas found their way to Paris in around 1690, he was instantly captivated. 'They encouraged me to compose a couple too. I do not think that I have violated the works of Lully, or of my predecessors.' Couperin aptly described his blend of French and Italian elements as 'les goûts-réünis'. That is, with good reason, the title of the ten Nouveaux Concerts he published in 1724 as a sequel to his four successful Concerts Royaux. The Neuvième Concert from Les Goûts-réünis has the Italian subtitle Ritratto dell'Amore, portrait of love, while the parts have been given French characterisations. The mood is unmistakably French, with a profusion of miniature ornaments in melodies that still reveal the elegant regularity of the French court dance. Here and there Italian influences are apparent, such as the hectic bass line in Le Je-ne-scay-quoy and the occasionally 'walking' or 'running', Corellian bass in La Noble Fierté. However Couperin never expressed a preference for the use of certain instruments in Les Goûts-réünis. Violin, oboe, transverse flute, recorder - a tasteful approach could always count on his blessing. The Normandy family descended from Jacques Hotteterre were perfect masters of the design and construction of wooden wind instruments. The Hotteterres transformed shawm and dulcian to oboe and bassoon while they also tinker successfully with the transverse flute and the recorder. In a few publications, Jacques Hotteterre offers a glimpse of his craft. For instance, in his often-reprinted Principes de la flûte traversière (1707), he explains the principles of playing the transverse flute after which he also looks at the recorder and oboe. While Hotteterre's nickname was 'le Romain' (probably as the results of a lengthy stay in Italy), one can scarcely conceive of music more French than his. In many an avertissement (foreword) to his suites, Hotteterre provides a description of subtle decorations, as common in his work as curls in the wig of Louis XIV. The Suitte in E-minor finds it's origins in the Deuxième livre de pièces pour la flûte traversière (1715), but Hotteterre states emphatically that he thoroughly enjoys hearing the works on 'autres instruments'. The French tradition of playing the viola da gamba was given gold trimmings by Marin Marais. He must have been a prodigy and his teacher Sainte-Colombe sent him packing after only six months because he had nothing more to teach him. Marais wrote more than 550 pieces for the 'basse de viole'; an instrument that sang in his hands with unparalleled refinement of expression. In 1723 he published La gamme, in which he granted a solo role to the violin for a change. This is Marais' investigation of the Italian style, for instance in the obsessive base line of La Sonnerie de Sainte-Geneviève du Mont de Paris (probably evoking the sound of bells), or in the joyous Très vivement uit de Sonate à la Marésienne (Sonata in the style of Marais). In the foreword to La gamme, Marais left room for performance on instruments other than the violin, just as he had no objection to other string, wind and keyboard instruments cutting a dash with his works for gamba. Charles Dieupart was just as generous with his pieces: the mo